


Hang In There

by lastSaskatchewanPirate



Series: Metaphorical Coffee [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 15:27:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11383002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastSaskatchewanPirate/pseuds/lastSaskatchewanPirate
Summary: In this case, beauty is definitely in the eye of the beholder.





	1. Chapter 1

It was an abomination.

Megatron stared at the … the thing clinging to his wall with the same degree of nauseated horror that most people felt upon getting up close and personal with road kill. Distinctly not fresh road kill. Road kill that had been given the opportunity to putrefy, to roll up its proverbial sleeves and really get on with the business of liquefaction. Road kill that …

Well. That was probably enough of that train of thought. Suffice it to say, Megatron was thoroughly horrified by the thing on his wall.

It wasn’t even particularly large, maybe eighteen inches long; but the sheer degree of eldritch, otherworldly wrongness contained within that small area was breathtaking. It was … it was … 

It was The Void, and as he gazed into It, so too did It gaze into him. Megatron wondered if his soul was being sucked out through his eyes; it seemed like the only explanation for the darkness encroaching on the edges of his vision, the tingling in his extremities, the tightness in his chest …

… or maybe he just had forgotten to breathe for a few minutes and was on the verge of passing out; come to think of it, that might actually be more likely.

Particularly given the odds of him still having a soul, to say nothing of the damn thing existing in the first place.

As Megatron wrestled with his autonomic nervous system and a heaping dose of existential angst, Rodimus wandered up beside him, coffee cup in hand, and stared thoughtfully at the focal point of his acute distress.

“Yep,” Rodimus announced firmly after a moment’s analysis. “I was totally right. See? Little art on the walls cheers the place right up.”

Megatron finally dragged his traumatized gaze away from the wall-mounted monstrosity disfiguring his living space. “Did … did you … YOU did this?!”

Rodimus thoroughly derailed the freight train of Megatron’s rising ire with one of those spectacular, brilliant smiles that Megatron could never fully believe were being turned on him, of all people. “Fuck yeah!” Roddy beamed up at him. “Don’t you love it?!”

Megatron’s mouth moved silently for a moment as words, letters, and inarticulate sounds all failed him simultaneously.

A wicked little glint appeared in the blue eyes peering up at him. Megatron’s mouth snapped shut. The wicked little glint was joined by a wicked little curl at the corner of Rodimus’s mouth. “I mean,” he purred, “I know you really appreciate fine art, right?”

Megatron’s eyes narrowed. His mouth twitched.

The wicked little curl dropped a bit. Rodimus appeared to be considering the wisdom of a strategic retreat.

Megatron’s mouth twitched again, and then his shoulders, and then he was laughing silently, one hand over his eyes; laughing harder than he had in decades, laughing until his chest hurt and he started to wheeze a little, until he flopped down on the terrible couch and dragged Rodimus into his lap, still laughing, and just held the troublemaking cretin for a long, long time.

From its place of pride on the wall, a poster of a kitten hanging from a tree with the caption “Believe” watched over them serenely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An inversion of the previous chapter, because it had to be done.

It was an abomination.

Rodimus stared at the … the thing hanging on Megatron’s wall as though seriously contemplating whether it was likely to launch itself shrieking at his face like some eldritch horror. It probably wasn’t, but he didn’t like to make assumptions that baseless, especially given the anomalous fact of the thing’s presence in the first place.

Just looking at it made his head hurt. It was something that simply should not exist in this dimension, to say nothing of existing inside Megatron’s shitty apartment. The sheer wrongness of it made him feel like his eyeballs were being turned inside out.

Rodimus stared accusingly at it, tried looking away and then peering at it from the corner of his eye. The thing made no suspicious movement that he could detect, but it could just be waiting for him to let down his guard.

He was still glaring at it when Megatron sauntered in from the kitchen and stood beside him, calmly sipping coffee and studying the monstrosity with the nonchalant detachment of the supremely confident. Made sense, really, that Megs wouldn’t quail at the sight of such horror; he had Seen Things. He had Done Things. He had been one of the Things that go bump in the night, and as such had no fear of any lesser evil.

Which was really kind of hot, but Roddy had other things on his mind at the moment than how hot his not-quite-boyfriend was.

“So,” he said flatly. Megatron hummed a neutral query, and sipped his coffee. “That’s … that’s a thing.”

“Given that it’s a material object? Yes, I’d say it definitely qualifies as a ‘thing.’”

Rodimus sighed extensively. “And what exactly is it doing here?”

Megatron’s non-expression didn’t falter. “Looks like it’s hanging on the wall.”

“You know what I mean!” He managed to keep himself from stomping his foot, but it was a near thing.

Megatron feigned innocent surprise. It was quite possibly the worst feigning attempt Rodimus had ever seen, given that the word “innocent” shouldn’t even appear on the same geographical landmass as Megatron.

“I thought you said the place needed some art.”

“That is not art!” Rodimus flailed like an electrocuted muppet. “That is … that is … that is an insult to good taste! That is base commercialism masquerading as content! It’s banal! It’s critically gauche! It’s … it’s …!”

It was, in point of fact, a poster depicting a kitten hanging from a tree branch, captioned with the word “believe” in all-caps Comic Sans. Rodimus found himself at a complete loss as to which element offended him most. Said loss did not deter him in the slightest from trying to articulate said offense, which came as a shock to absolutely no one.

“When I said ‘art’ I meant actual art, you knob!” Rodimus swiped Megatron’s coffee and gulped it in a fit of pique. “I meant something that uplifts the soul, you know? Something that challenges the viewer, something that … that … that actually fucking looks good! Not this pap!”

“I like cats,” Megatron rumbled menacingly. Rodimus rolled his eyes and swung the coffee mug like a blunt instrument.

“Then hang up a Lautrec Chat Noir or something, Jesus! It’s like you …” His eyes narrowed. “Like … you …”

Megatron folded his arms and raised one craggy eyebrow. Roddy sagged.

“Like you just punked the fuck out of me, you asshole.”


End file.
